Arrogant
by wingedraksha
Summary: Alec has a lot of problems, and Max can't stand most of them. In fact, she can't stand *him*. Right?
1. Chapter 1

**Just a sexy one-shot, might be continued if you like.**

"Why weren't you there on time? None of this would have happened if you'd just done your stupid job!"

"If I'd done _my_ job? What about _your_ job? Isn't this whole damn _place_ your job?"

The voices echoed down the hall, the words distorted by both distance and anger by the time they reached the knowing ears of the various other transgenic residents of nice, peaceful T.C. Peaceful. Right.

"All I'm saying," one of the voices went on, clearly straining for control, "is that it is not _my_ fault that no one was supervising the 6s when I was busy running _your_ errands."

"Right," the second voice retorted, distortion gone as they came around the corner, "like it was for my benefit that you wasted a morning smuggling in pre-Pulse wine."

"Well," Alec said throwing his hands up in tightly-wound frustration, "it _would _have been, if you'd made it even to this evening before pissing me off!" Max snorted, long legs pumping to keep up with him. The others kept silent, looking quickly down at their hands as the two warring Alphas passed.

"Oh, don't even say that. Like I'd drink with _you_." It was Alec's turn to snort.

"And why not?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're an arrogant little prick who can barely even think, but when he does, it's only for himself?" They shoved their way through the door at the opposite end of the room, and everyone else breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Ah, baby, that's never stopped you before. And I'm anything but little," he added, the smirk audible.

Max had to keep herself from growling, had to tame the cat enough to reach out and shove Alec instead of going for his throat.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, ignoring the zing of energy that leaped from his shoulder to her palm at the contact.

"I'll call you anything I want, Maxie," he said, shoving her back. Max's expression went murderous. She was not about to get into a petty fistfight in the middle of the hallway. She was not about to get into a petty fistfight in the middle of the hallway. She was not… "You know you like it."

She swung at him, lip curling in a snarl. Alec caught her fist and twisted, sending her arm up at a painful angle behind her back. She stomped the heel of her boot down on his instep, and at his hiss snapped her head back into his nose. Alec's grip on her wrist loosened enough for Max to whip herself around. Unfortunately, he didn't actually release her, and she found their position awkwardly switched so that her back was to his front, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pinning her left arm across her stomach. In an instant, Alec took advantage of her surprise and lunged roughly forward, slamming her front-first into the wall. Max grunted and tried to get enough of an angle with her free arm to shove them away, but only managed to scrabble helplessly against the plaster before Alec leaned in, pressing them firmly into a Max sandwich.

He put his face close to her neck, and Max froze. His breath, warm and ragged, puffed against her skin. His back was warm too, almost hot, and she could feel _all of it_.

"Calm down," he breathed, and something in his voice was dark and sly and predatory. She twisted her head, trying to get away from that dangerous mouth, and succeeded in turning it sideways enough that she could see his face, see the darkening of those hazel eyes to a burnished shade of forest green, and oh god his lips were only an inch away from hers.

"Fuck you," she bit out, struggling away from the wall. He slammed her into it again, and this time his hips arched in such a way that she felt him against her ass and what breath had not been knocked out of her with the impact left with a whoosh of shock and arousal.

"Calm _down_," he said again, lips curving in a way that would earn him a slap as soon as she was free.

"Fuck… _you_…" she said again, more slowly, softer this time, unable to look away from his mouth. Alec bent his head, free hand sliding up her waist to brush against the side of her breast, until his lips were just a fraction above hers.

"I'll bring the wine," he said, and she felt his mouth move against hers as lightly as butterfly wings. "You bring everything but your clothes."

"Like I said," she told him slowly, eyes fixed on his, lips brushing Alec's, "arrogant."

"Yeah?" She rolled her hips, felt him tense, heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah." In his moment of distraction, Max dropped out of his suddenly-lax grip and slid neatly out from between him and the wall. Her body cried out at the loss of touch, of _Alec_, and she quieted it with a mental smack. Backing away from the boy with a smirk, she took in the way his eyes snapped with lust and excitement and frustration.

Max smiled.

"But maybe next time."


	2. Chapter 2

**All right, you win. Part Deux.**

He felt her there a good three seconds before the door banged open, like a tension in the air that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the barcode tingling. Alec took a swig of whiskey from the bottle and trained wary eyes on the door to his room. Waited.

Max made her entrance with a slam, the door rebounding off the wall and swinging shut behind her. She stood in the entryway with her arms crossed, one hip jutting, face shuttered as usual. Alec resisted the urge to snort; earlier that day, when he'd had her up against the wall (and at that thought he had to resist a wholly different urge) she'd looked at him with something totally different than that blank, mildly contemptuous gaze.

He lifted the bottle at her in a toast, brows rising with it.

"Came for that drink after all?" For a long moment, Max didn't move.

"What is that," she asked finally, "whiskey? I thought you had wine." He shook his head.

"There's a bottle in the fridge, but I only break out that shit for special occasions." She curled her lip, but said nothing. After another few seconds passed, Alec sighed, the humor dropping from his eyes.

"What do you want, Max?" Her face twisted in a visible inner war, and then she took a fluid step in his direction and snatched the bottle from his hand.

"Don't even say a word," she snapped, and tilted her head back for a long swallow. Alec watched her throat, the line of her jaw, and wanted her. He was doing a lot of that these days.

"Give it back," he said, and when her eyes narrowed possessively, he stood. "Play nice, Maxie," Alec added, putting out a hand.

"Don't call me Maxie," she said, and took another swig before handing the bottle over. He laughed, shaking his head ruefully.

"You are one messed-up girl." Alec collapsed back into his chair and eyed Max as she hopped up onto the counter and sat watching him. With a quick twist of the head, Alec looked down. This was going to take a lot more alcohol. Transgenics didn't get _drunk_, per se, but they could damn well get tipsy, and he was headed as far as possible.

When it had been a good five minutes of nothing but the sound of the bottle being passed, Alec cleared his throat.

"So what, did Roller Boy make an unexpected appearance? That why you're lounging in my pleasure palace?" She laughed without meaning to and cut it off instantly. Alec smirked to hide his smile.

"Don't flatter yourself," Max drawled, and then looked at her hands. "He's not supposed to be here."

"You can only take him in carefully prescribed doses, huh," Alec said sagely. "I completely understand."

"That's not it, you idiot," she snapped, and then sighed. "I don't know why I'm talking to you." Alec didn't say anything, managing to keep his mouth shut. He waited. "It's so hard for him. For us," she added quickly, and Alec blinked. Max didn't seem to notice. "I just… I didn't think he'd be here."

"So why are you in here and not out there?" Alec asked quietly, careful to look anywhere but at her.

Max took another drink. The pause was so long he thought she hadn't heard him, or wasn't going to answer. Then,

"I don't know," she admitted, so softly that even his transgenic hearing almost didn't pick it up. He didn't know either, but he wasn't going to jinx it.

"Well, as long as you _are_ here," Alec said, getting to his feet, "might as well give me a hand."

"With what?" she asked, still sounding morose. Alec took a step towards her and Max looked up at him and suddenly that tension was back in the air and this time he didn't even mean for it to happen, _really_. "Alec?" Max asked cautiously, and Alec swallowed.

"Uh, with getting rid of this," he said, sidestepping the counter and going to the fridge. He pulled out the wine.

"I thought you were saving it," she said, twisting her torso to watch him. Alec snorted, eyes on the tight pull of her shirt over her breasts.

"There's two of us now. No way we're getting anywhere with just one bottle of whiskey." Max shook her head.

"Like I want to get drunk with you." Alec turned, lifting both hands innocently, the wine bottle cold against his fingers.

"What's the matter?" he asked, a challenge and a suggestion all in one. "Scared?"

"Fuck you," she said for the third time that day, but this time it was with a reluctant smile in her voice. Taking advantage of her lifted mood, Alec brushed past her.

"Anytime," he murmured as he did, and flopped back into his chair to the sound of her quickened heartbeat. _Oh, Maxie_, he thought, suddenly wicked. _You want me too, whether you admit it or not._

And she would admit it. He would make her.

* * *

It was halfway through the bottle of red wine that Max realized she was listening to Alec tell her a joke and that she was laughing. She curbed the laugh, considering the possibility that she was tipsy. Maybe.

"And then he said, 'Don't ask me, I just work here'," Alec finished with a half-smirk, his hazel eyes glinting at her. Max choked despite herself, shaking her head. "See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there."

"Shut up," she told him, and it was when she reached out and punched him in the shoulder that Max realized they were now sitting on his sofa, side by side. Alec leaned with the hit, bringing a hand to his shoulder in mock-pain.

"Geez, Maxie, don't pull any punches."

"I never do with you," she replied honestly, and for a moment their eyes met and things went still. Alec was looking at her, one hand still on his shoulder, his face suddenly completely unreadable in that way absolutely unique to X5-494. Max felt her heart beat faster, felt her face heat up, and swallowed. He wasn't talking, wasn't joking around, wasn't mocking her with that easy smile. He was just… looking, his gaze somehow more important than anything she could remember.

Max blinked, and leaned back sharply.

"I mean, there's gotta be _someone_ around here who can take it," she said, laughing it off, and at his wicked smile knew she'd said the wrong thing.

"Oh, I can take it, all right."

"God," Max sniffed, downplaying the way those words had made her pulse jump with excitement, "do you have to make everything sexual?"

"Only when it _is_," Alec replied, his voice deceptively casual, and Max had a sense of falling off some steep cliff, scrabbling for a handhold and missing every one.

"Well, it isn't. So stop."

"I'll stop when you do," he said, putting the now-empty wine bottle down beside the equally empty whiskey bottle and lifting one leg onto the couch and draping his elbow over the bent knee. Max crossed her own legs, uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons.

"Whatever." He laughed and she glared, the moment of camaraderie gone. "Hey, I feel _sorry_ for you, you know." Her voice came out more sharp than she'd intended, but at that point it was too late and she went with it. "You're so screwed in the head about Manticore and Rachel and all of it that you have to hide behind making everything _meaningless_." She uncrossed her legs and stood, and in a blur of movement so fast her drink-numbed mind felt dizzy, Alec was on his feet in front of her. He shoved her, hard, and she fell backwards and hit the floor with a thud.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Alec bit out, and though part of Max was wondering frantically how they'd gone from sharing jokes to _this_, this angry, humorless _spite_, the bigger part leaped at the chance to be furious. The surprise and pain of hitting the ground jarred at least the edge of tipsiness away, and Max flipped upright with a snarl.

"Don't you push me around, Alec," she said, voice hard, a warning.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," he countered, a matching tone.

"I'll talk about whatever I want."

"Then I'll talk about your precious _Ordinary_," he spat, and she recognized the positions they'd unconsciously taken, slowly circling, knees bent, attack-ready. Something in Max cried out at the thought, and she shoved it back down. "How about Logan, Max? How about how you two are wasting your time, how you're only gonna get him killed, how you don't even _want_ to be with him anymore?" She darted in and kicked up, he caught her leg, spun her, she went down into a crouch, came up, landed a blow on his abdomen. Alec caught his breath and they circled, circled.

"Shut up," she said, lip curling.

"That's right, you can't even deny it," he sneered, and they came together again, and when they separated Max had a bloody lip.

"Why wouldn't I want to be with Logan?" she asked, hating the snide edge to her voice and unable to help it. "He's smart, brave, loyal – "

"He's not what you're looking for," Alec interrupted with a cruel laugh, shaking his head, eyes steady on hers, steady as a panther.

"Oh, yeah? How the hell would you know?" she asked, and lunged at him. Alec swept a leg around her ankles and dropped her, following her down, slamming down on top of her. His weight jammed her thighs into the ground and she hissed with pain, his forearm heavy across her throat, pinning her.

"Because _I am_," he said, and his voice was so full of anger that it took a moment for Max to see through the blind rage. Then, the words sunk in and she paused, her arms stilling in their attempts to shove him away.

"What?" she asked, biting the word off to cover the confusion playing in her eyes.

"I am," Alec said again, more calmly this time, and then his mouth was on hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ah, wow, sorry guys! I really did not mean to go this long without an update; I got really distracted with vacations and other stories and such. My bad.**

That kiss, that first moment, was a play on time. Max felt her body and her brain separate, slide apart like continents, her mind caught on the impossible thing that he'd said as her mouth went hot and savage and the tingling fire spread from the place where their lips met to her chest and lower, down, until her legs felt weak.

Gradually her mind reached the place where her body was, and she realized that he was kissing her, kissing her in a way that Logan had never kissed her, with a kind of desperate urgency born of something like starvation.

And she was kissing him back.

Hands in hair, knotted against the back of his skull, her back arched away from the floor as his arm moved off her throat and he dragged her up against him. Overwhelmed by the rush of scents flooding off of him, lust and excitement and residual anger, Max's instincts raced ahead of her consciousness and she twisted roughly beneath him to free her legs, wrapping them around his waist until they were sealed together in what was suddenly far more than just a kiss.

Alec made a sound, a harsh groaning noise against her mouth, and Max grunted as he rolled them so that she straddled him, plastered across his chest, her shins flat on the floor. The move jarred her, and in one solid punch her instincts slammed back into the little mental room where she usually kept them locked. Max broke away from Alec with a cry, sitting bolt upright. His eyes were dazed, and his hands fell away easily. Then, as she rolled off of him and leaped to her feet, Alec blinked and the fog cleared away to leave that old familiar sharpness.

"That – That didn't happen," she said, turning her back, one hand going to her lips. "Oh, god."

"Oh, come on," Alec said, flipping upright with his usual lackadaisical grace. "Don't do this, Max."

"Do what?" She spun, the shock flashing to anger. "Don't act like we just made a huge fucking mistake? Like you – you – you _tricked_ me?" He scoffed, unable to hide the glint of hurt behind the immediate and careless mask. Max ignored it.

"I didn't trick you," he sneered, running a hand through his hair where she'd mussed it. "You wanted me just as much as I wanted you." He took a step towards her, faintly predatory. "You still do."

"I don't _want_ you," she sneered back. "Not even close."

"You know the great thing about eidetic memory?" he asked, eyes pinning hers. "I can still _smell_ how much you wanted me. Oh, wait. That's not memory."

"Shut your mouth," Max snapped, flushing. Her body was still tingling, her hands trembling slightly. She clenched her fingers. "If you say anything, to _anyone_ – "

"You mean to Robot Boy? Should I keep this to myself?" In an instant she had him bent back over his own counter, her hand tight and unforgiving around his throat as she leaned over him.

"Don't you dare," Max hissed, eyes glinting, panic rising in her like a tide. There was too much, too many things, all the smells and instincts and emotions warring within her, greedy for her, and she needed to get – out –

She let him go and went for the door, her vision blurred with wetness, a hint of confused, wrathful tears.

"You can't run from everything, Maxie," he called after her, one hand on his throat, eyes dark and voice hoarse. "You can't run from me." She paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame, and when she turned to look at him her face was drawn and shuttered.

"Don't talk to me about running, Alec," Max threw back, and the bitterness in her voice surprised them both. He stared at her. She left.

* * *

Alec wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to risk going to Crash, but by the time it hit 10PM and he was out of everything but frustration and brooding it seemed the only real option. What else was he going to do, stay in his empty little room and think about Max? Why do that when he could come here, get trashed, fuck some random girl and _still_ think about Max?

He couldn't believe it had happened.

It had only been a day, but he was already wondering whether or not he hadn't just had the most vivid dream-nightmare of his life. But no. Max's steadfast avoidance of him throughout the day proved otherwise. It was one thing for her to ignore him, breezing past his sarcasm and winning grins with her head high and her eyes rolling heavenward, but for him to not see her at all? This was definitely on purpose.

Alec sighed, downing another shot of jack. It had been a stupid move. A tactical failure. Not thought out, not planned well, not –

Not welcome.

Now, with Max a decided absence and nothing but his own damned high tolerance to distract him, Alec wondered how the hell he could have thought it was a good idea to kiss Max, to let her know, to practically shove in her face the way he felt about her. Not only had he failed at crushing the sly, quiet ache that tugged at his heart every time she smiled, every time her eyes went distant in that way that meant she was thinking about Manticore and about her own special nightmares, he had gambled on the idea that finally kissing her and relieving that stupid lingering sexual tension would get rid of the feelings.

And he had lost.

Now, it was so much worse.

Kissing her had only made him want her more, and what was worse, it had brought that subtle ache into sharp relief: he cared about her. He cared about her more than he'd cared about anyone since…

Alec slapped the bar and received a fourth shot. He couldn't stop seeing Max's face, her eyes wide and shocked and fathomlessly dark, betrayed in a way that he had no way of handling. The last time Rachel had ever looked at him had been with that same thoughtless cruelty, refusing him on every level. And now Rachel was dead, and Max was never going to trust him again.

_Serves you right,_ he thought, unable to stop the sneering subconscious voice. _Why should you deserve trust, after what you've done? What you are?_

Max had been right with her final barb, the words whose harsh truth had changed the tone of the fight itself.

He knew everything about running.

He'd spent the past year doing nothing but keeping his entire life at arm's length, and who was he to expect that that could change? And why the hell should he want to? Alec shook his head, lip curling.

Like he needed her trust, her – her love. Like he needed any of it. She didn't need him, that was brutally clear. So why bother? What was Max to him other than an annoyance, a pressure to do things he had no business doing, a bitchy conscience in a world with none?

Alec closed his eyes. Shot number six.

Everything, of course. She was everything.

A bottle clinked down on the bar beside his elbow, loud and unapologetic. Alec's eyes snapped open. His eyes slid from the counter to the beer to the long sparkling sleeve, moving up the equally sparkling torso to the raised and unforgiving brows of Original Cindy.

"Hot stuff," she said, dry as sun-baked stone, "we need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, readers; I kind of forgot this story back in what, August? And you all kept reviewing. And kept reviewing. And finally, even though I'm working on my NaNo novel (32,000 words today!) and another long fic that's just about reached 35,000... the guilt's gotten to me. I'm gonna finish this, probably with one more chapter, even if it kills me. **

Alec stared at her, aware that he probably smelled like a brewery and looked like hell.

"Sorry, not in the mood." She sat down on the stool next to him, expression unwavering and far from apologetic.

"Well, shit, sugar, that's too bad. So. You and my girl Max." Alec let his head fall back down onto his forearm with a muffled thud.

"_Really_ not in the mood." A hand came down on his head, fingers gripping his hair, and yanked his head back up.

"You can just get yourself right up into the mood, then, because I am not letting you leave here without a little heart-to-heart." Alec jerked away, wincing as a few hairs jumped ship in favor of O.C.'s fist. He looked at his glass. Empty. Great.

"Ok," he said, "why don't you give me the spiel, then. Tell me I'm not good enough, tell me you'll kick my sorry ass, tell me I'm half the man Logan is." He spat this last with a degree of venom that surprised even him, and shoved the shot glass down the bar. Maybe that was enough after all. He kept his gaze on the grain of the counter, bracing himself. The words never came. Instead, Original Cindy reached out and slapped him in the face.

Alec yelped, clapping a hand to his cheek, more startled than he'd been in a while.

"What the hell?" O.C. gave him a pointed look. She didn't look sorry.

"You need to snap yourself out of this funk, boy." His brows furrowed, the vague effects of the alcohol and the confusion of this entire conversation too much to allow for quick reactions.

"What?"

"Let me lay it out for you." He waved a hand, his face still stinging.

"Please, do that."

"You kissed Max." He groaned. It was as much acknowledgment as she was going to get. "Do you realize how much that changes things?" Now, Alec did look at her. The familiar, streetwise slang was gone from her voice, and her eyes were quite serious. He found himself unable to drop her gaze, to brush it off with his usual casual disinterest. After a moment, realizing that the question hadn't been rhetorical, he sighed.

"Yes. Sort of. Not really."

"Yes, sort of, not really?" She shook her head, smiling wryly, and it occurred to Alec that he kind of liked Original Cindy. When she wasn't hitting him in the face, that was. "That ain't good enough, Alec, and I think you know that." He raked his hands over his face, trying and failing to wipe the helplessness off.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, the frustration biting at his temples. "I kissed her, she kissed me back, it was a big fucking mistake, and here we all are."

"She say that, or you?" He rolled his eyes towards her, one brow lifting. O.C. clarified. "Who said it was a mistake?" Alec snorted.

"She did. 'Course. Can't be caught messing around with the fuckup, can she."

"Mmmhm." O.C. put a hand on his shoulder. "Alec, honey, I'm gonna explain something to you. And I need you to listen real close." He twisted around to face her fully, resting one elbow on the bar, and waited. "Max is a great girl. She really is. She'd take a bullet for me in a second, I know it. But that girl don't know shit about what she wants. She only knows what she thinks she _should_ want."

"Don't I know it," Alec muttered. Though, to be fair, until a few minutes ago in this very bar, he'd had no clue what he actually wanted, either. _At least I didn't just pick up and leave. At least I'm not too scared to face it._

"And," Original Cindy went on, her hand still on his shoulder, "she don't know shit about love." That made him laugh, a dark, humorless sound.

"Original Cindy," Alec declared, clapping a hand on her own shoulder, "none of us know shit about love. Hard to have any kind of grip on the thing when you grow up thinking of it as some sort of disease carried by an inferior species." O.C. raised her brows at him, jutting her chin back as she folded her arms.

"And that is just wrong."

"Sorry."

"Anyway. _As_ I was saying. Why'd you kiss her?" And suddenly, the conversation got a whole lot more frightening. Alec stared at her, at Max's best friend, and could not say a single thing. O.C. stared back, patient as he'd ever seen her. "You know what I'm asking." He looked away, teeth closing on the inside of his lower lip.

Silence.

"Alec," she said, very quiet now. "Do you love her?"

His heart, already faster than any of the humans in this bar, sped up. He swallowed, his mouth quite dry, feeling the ridiculous and almost irresistible urge to run. Then, his mouth moving before his brain caught up, he spoke.

"Yeah." Original Cindy let out a huff of a laugh. Alec barely noticed, too stunned by his own admission.

"Yeah? That's all you got?" He looked at her slowly, unsure whether or not he wanted to break her neck or give her a hug.

"Yeah," he said again. Then, "I'm screwed, aren't I?" O.C. gave him another smile, her third of the night, and this one was wide and fearless and a little bit beautiful.

"Oh, tiger, are you ever." She gave him a little punch to the arm. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

* * *

Max was in her room, working over the new punching bag she'd hung that afternoon. Spin kick, bang! _You can't run from everything, Maxie._ Doubletap and snap with the heel, smack! _You can't run from me._

She fell against the bag, arms going around its solid mass, and breathed. She pressed her forehead against the black leather, sweat beading above her upper lip, and breathed. She closed her eyes, forced back anything remotely like a tear, and breathed.

This was not okay.

This was so far from okay it wasn't even funny.

She laughed a little, the sound muffled by her upper arm. She'd finally gotten O.C. to leave her alone, after about two hours of steadfastly ignoring followed by angry venting, and here she was finally having that breakdown.

Max didn't even want to think about how long she'd been thinking about it. Not this, not the aftermath. It was worse than that.

About kissing him at all.

Because, now that it had happened, it was like a thing she'd beaten down and locked up in the dark had come out all raging, and there was no putting it back. Kissing Alec wasn't like kissing Logan, or any of the other boys she'd brought home in her more-wild years. It was bittersweet, exhilarating, powerful in a way she hadn't even thought to see coming. And she wanted to do it again.

Max let go of the punching bag and stripped off her shirt. Time for a shower. Maybe that'd get these stupid _feelings_ out. She didn't care about Alec. She didn't even _like_ Alec. She didn't want to be with him in any other capacity than a business relationship, and even that was pushing it.

Right?

Resenting this entire line of thought, Max dropped her bra and underwear by the shower door and stepped in. Hot water was what she needed. A bath would be awesome, but she knew her own life too well to expect that she'd be able to actually take one. Showers were shorter, less relaxing, but more realistic for the schedule of a transgenic mercenary-turned-savior with a commune to run.

She heard the door to her rooms open over the water, only minutes after turning it on, and nearly growled out loud.

"I told you," Max shouted, happy to compensate for human lack of transgenic hearing, "I don't want to talk about it! I don't care how much you threaten me, me and Alec are none of your business!"

"Well, that's kind of harsh," Alec said from his place against the bathroom doorframe. Max jumped, her head whipping around. The shower stall was made of fogged glass, so it wasn't like he could really _see_ anything, not – He was smirking. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and he was smirking like there was no tomorrow. _Oh, hell no._

"What the hell are you doing here?" Max snapped, blushing furiously. She was trapped, and she knew it. Her options were to stay in the shower and let him have the upper hand, or pretend she didn't give a damn if he saw her naked and stroll out for a towel. Which should have been the obvious choice, but for one tiny problem.

She cared a whole lot. And Max, not being the terribly modest type, didn't approve of any kind of insecurity. And the fact that Alec – _Alec_ – could make her confidence waver, as if it mattered what he thought of her, was… upsetting.

"I have something to say." She peered over the top of the shower stall, and saw that the initial smugness had left his face. He looked, actually, if it could be believed… kind of serious.

"I don't want you to say it," she found herself replying, and ducked down below the edge of the stall so he wouldn't see her mouth a silent curse. _God, Max, could you _be _more petty_?

"Tough." And – was that – was he coming closer? He couldn't be coming closer.

He stepped into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. This time, Max did growl.

"Down, girl," Alec said, and it was all she had not to slam open the shower door and break his nose. "So I thought maybe we should talk like grown-ups."

"Is this how grown-ups talk? Breaking into each other's bathrooms while they're in the shower?"

"I just thought that would add a little zing," he replied sarcastically. Then, quieter, "I didn't know you were in the shower, and by the time I got here it was too late to stop." Max swallowed, suddenly nervous in an entirely different way.

"You know what they say," she said, falsely light. "It's never too late."

"Yeah," he said darkly, "we live in hope." Before she could deconstruct what the hell that was supposed to mean, he kicked a foot against the floor and turned with an audible thump of the heels. "Max – " And suddenly she was quite sure that she mustn't allow him to finish that sentence, that it was absolutely necessary that he did not finish –

"This'd probably be easier if I weren't in the shower," she broke in, speaking quickly. "So if you'd just get your pretty, genetically modified butt out of here, I can just – "

"Max, you're an infuriating, stubborn bitch, and I'm in love with you."

She stopped talking, her mouth still open.

Radio silence.


	5. Chapter 5

**All right, here you go. Enjoy!**

He wasn't sure if he should keep talking, or go forward, or maybe back away quickly. She was just standing there in the stall, staring at him, lips parted and eyes wide.

Then, just as he was about to take a step towards her just in case he'd actually broken a piece of her brain, Max threw up a hand and nearly hit the stall door.

"No," she said, about as authoritatively as she could manage. "No. You can't say that to me."

"I just did," he retorted, adding a bit of cockiness to hide the way his heart was thudding somewhere up around his tonsils. He'd meant to say something along those lines. Right? That had been the plan? So there was no reason to fear cardiac arrest. He was just following the plan. Still, when Max's eyes flared with fury, Alec couldn't help but swallow.

"No," she said again, more forcefully this time, "you _can't_."

"Again," Alec said, and now he did step closer, "I just _did_." He reached out, without looking, and snagged a towel from the rack by the door. "You want to maybe come out here?"

Max snorted, that familiar, infuriating sound of disbelief mixed with scorn.

"Uh, no," she replied, all attitude now, "I want you to go away."

Alec held the towel out towards the shower door, turning on his heel so that his torso faced away.

"There, see, I'm not even looking."

"And I'm not moving from this stall."

Exasperated now, Alec shook the towel.

"Max, get your ass out here before I drag it out!"

He wasn't sure whether or not he was thankful that she heard the seriousness in his voice, but there was a sharp tug at the towel and a moment later the shower door slammed open. Max stepped onto the bathroom floor, the towel wrapped tightly above her breasts, and glared.

"You're not in love with me," she said, the corners of her lips turned faintly down, and she looked so fucking accusatory that Alec almost smiled. Her subject matter, however, was pretty far from laughable. Moving quickly to block her exit, he shook his head ruefully.

"For once, Maxie, I really wish you were right."

"I am right," she responded, clutching the towel with both hands. "You can't be in love with me; that's – that's crazy. And stupid."

"Yes."

"And," she added, jerking her chin at him stubbornly, "completely hopeless."

"Is it?"

"Yes!"

"You kissed me," Alec reminded her, his eyes on the water droplets collecting in her lashes, the single drop quivering at the fullest point of her lower lip. His voice was lower now, and he couldn't stop the words. "Maybe I started it, but you sure as hell kept it going."

"I – didn't…" She curled her lip, tongue darting out to catch that drop, and he inhaled a sharp breath through the nose. She smelled of soap and water and sex. But she always smelled of sex, so that didn't mean… much… except...

"You did," Alec countered, and he felt very warm now, his skin humming. "You wanted me then, and you want me now."

Max made a scoffing sound, disgust twisting her features as she looked him up and down.

"_Please_. And that just means you _want_ me, not that… that other thing." She shifted on her feet, and he thought she might actually be considering attacking him. Alec rocked back on his heels.

"Not arguing that I want you," he said, trying for charming, and Max tilted her head, feline and angry and something else, too, something scared. Alec saw it, felt it catch in his throat; he sobered. "Max… I'm not arguing anything. We fight about everything, all the time; I'm not fighting about this."

"That's not fair," Max said, and for the first time in a long time, she sounded like nothing but a little girl. "We have to fight."

Alec shrugged, helpless now in more ways than one.

"I can't," he said. "I can't fight it. I tried, believe me; you're the last person on earth I'd want to feel like this about – " And at this, her lips pursed indignantly but he ignored her because otherwise he wouldn't be able to keep going at all, and he pretty much had to keep going or he was going to just lose it and become an alcoholic and get himself killed. " – but you're _here_," and he tapped a finger against his temple, hard, the humor gone now. "And you're _here_," the same finger, against his chest now. "And it's all the time, Max, and I can't – get it out. I can't fucking make it, make _you_, leave."

Out of breath, he stopped. Max was doing that thing again, that thing where she stared at him with her dark eyes wide, studying, searching, completely unreadable.

When she did speak, a long, agonizingly still moment later, she sounded somewhere between drugged and panicked.

"I can't… feel things for you."

And just like that, his heart, which, he'd been pretty sure, had just stopped for good, started racing.

Alec waited.

"You are – you are _not_ who I'm supposed to…" She trailed off, that old haunted look coming into her eyes, and he went to her before his conscious brain could question it. He touched her face, one hand ghosting along the edge of her jaw and the soft skin below her ear, hardly daring to touch her. If he touched her, things might break, she might remember that he really _wasn't_ who she was supposed to, and that would ruin everything.

"But you do," he said, almost a question, refusing to beg her. "It's okay, Max. It'll be okay."

She snorted again, and, another first, Alec felt real hope.

"It'll be okay?" she repeated. "That's all you got?"

He shrugged.

"I never said I was eloquent."

"But I'm impressed that you know the word," Max retorted, still looking down. Everything about this conversation, as comfortably irritating as it was, felt fragile. He quirked a brow, very aware of their closeness.

"I'm impressive in other ways, too."

And she actually chuckled.

"Right. Well."

Alec coughed, a smile playing on his lips.

"You know, Original Cindy thinks you should believe me."

Max stared at him, skeptical to the end.

"It's true!" he insisted. "She even slapped me."

"Why's that?"

"Because I was sitting there in a bar, kicking myself for not doing this sooner."

And he lowered his head, gaze seeking hers. When he found it, Alec lifted a brow. This time, he would ask.

And this time…

She kissed him.

**So, that's the end for now. Maybe there'll be more, but only if I get begged enough/have still more free time!  
**


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